


God Bless Bokuto Koutarou

by ghermez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Bokuto, Consensual Sex, Dom!Akaashi, Getting Together, Light BDSM, M/M, One Night Stands, Praise Kink, Romance, Rope Bondage, Size Difference, Strangers to Lovers, Sub!Bokuto, top!akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghermez/pseuds/ghermez
Summary: Akaashi's hook-up has just cancelled on him, but the bar presents a perfect substitution in one, large, sweet volleyball player who's thrilled to be fucked.AU where Akaashi is an editor at a publisher, Bokuto is a pro-volleyball player (MSBY Black Jackals implied), and they have a one-night-stand that turns into something more.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 113
Kudos: 949





	1. Hold Me

**Yukio: Sorry, Akaashi-san. I won’t be able to make it tonight.**

Akaashi couldn’t really blame Yukio for the way frustration pressed against his temples, so he didn’t bother replying and put his phone away. It would be a lie to deny how much he was anticipating tonight. He’d been cooped up in the office for the past three weeks, since one of the magazine’s most influential artists was preparing for their return with a brand new series and that meant rushing everyone to get the proofs ready in the nick of time. The whole staff in his department was overworked and exhausted. But they submitted the finished copy in just thirty minutes. It’d taken four to text Yukio. Akaashi needed to release some of the tension in him, but alas, he was without a companion for the night.

He requested a top-up from the bartender and, when that arrived, dawned three-quarters of it in three long drags.

The bar he decided to hang out at wasn’t ideal; so rowdy and loud that the headache he’d gotten from staring at his computer screen was aggravated.

“What’s going on,” he muttered, to which the man on his left winced.

“Apparently some volleyball team members here are celebrating their win.”

He frowned. “Do they have to make such a ruckus?”

The guy grinned. “I know, right?” Then, with a decidedly more interested tone, he asked Akaashi, “What is making you drown yourself in alcohol?”

Akaashi wasn’t ignorant of the subtle ways men picked him up; he’d stopped being innocent a long time ago, but he wasn’t in the mood to entertain someone who was possibly vanilla tonight. Looking the man up and down, eying his plain blue T-shirt, overgrown hair, and the barely-there whiskers on his cheeks, Akaashi decided this guy would probably leave him far more frustrated than when they started.

Besides, the more he had to listen to the aforementioned group of sportsmen share one cheer after the other the more he wanted to just release the pent up energy in him by doing something far kinkier than whatever this man had in mind.

Before he had to respond, a thick arm slid its way between Akaashi and the man, and a cheery voice asked, “Could you get us another couple of beer jugs, please?” There was too much whining in the tone. Akaashi looked up and met a pair of sharp, golden eyes. Amber wasn’t a precisely intriguing color, but the way these eyes assessed him, passing over his face, neck, down his chest, and even to his thighs, unnerved and aroused him.

Akaashi shifted, trying to get away, except there was a hint of anticipation in the air now, enticing and wild. He looked back up into those golden eyes and found them on him still. He took the liberty to look up and down the guy in the black sports jersey, and what Akaashi saw wasn’t bad at all. Shoulders wide enough to block the view of the other guy who’d been trying and failing to interest Akaashi, arms so muscular that not even the jersey could disguise their strength, and a chest radiating heat. Yeah. Akaashi wouldn’t mind seeing this guy in some rope. Maybe even feed him his cock. Akaashi took another sip of his drink.

Except he never got an invitation from the hottest man his eyes had seen. The man got his beer (ugh) and went back to his table which, when Akaashi sneaked a look, was infested with similarly built sportsmen. Not a single one of them was as endowed as the golden eyed man though. 

Figuring that he wasn’t about to get anywhere with a man who was possibly heterosexual, he considered the first guy, who looked like he was nowhere near gearing up to ask Akaashi for his number. 

“Have you worked on anything I’ve read before?” the guy asked, and Akaashi seriously just wanted a good lay and full night’s sleep. He’d even forgotten that he told this man his profession.

He was gearing up to hand over a soft rejection when that same presence, same warmth, coated his back. He turned a little and there they were, those unflinching golden eyes. 

He raised an eyebrow, which only made Golden Eyes’ grin grow a little bigger.

“Wanna get out of here?”

There was no hesitation when Akaashi put down a couple of bills to cover the cost of his drink and the drink belonging to poor fella he was leaving behind and got up.

“Let’s go.”

  
  


Recklessness wasn’t Akaashi’s preferred method of behavior. He prided himself on being a levelheaded man, actually, but now he knew that Golden Eyes (he should get the man’s name soon) was an even more delightful sight from the back.

While Golden Eyes’ back was all pure strength, his ass was unfortunately hidden in a pair of dark track pants. First order of business: get those off. 

“You’re really quiet, huh?”

“What do you mean?” They didn’t have a precise destination and the walk cleared Akaashi’s mind. That was good. If he was to end up naked and fucking the daylights out of this man, he’d prefer to be totally sober.

“Your eyes were really eating me up back there but you aren’t as forward,” he explained, a grin spreading on his lips.

Akaashi felt a twinge of defensiveness. He wasn’t eating him up. Well. Okay. Maybe a little bit. Could anyone blame him? This stranger was a walking daydream.

“What’s your name?” There. That was enough forwardness, right?

“Bokuto Koutarou. What’s yours, pretty stranger?” Ugh. He was cheesy. Why didn’t that make him any less attractive to Akaashi?

“Akaashi Keiji.”

Bokuto stopped walking and offered a hand. Weirdly, the gesture charmed Akaashi. He shook Bokuto’s hand, ignoring the shiver running down his spine. He must be really frustrated if a single touch could shake him up that hard.

“So, Akaashi-kun, wanna take me back to your place?”

“Drop the kun and I will.”

“All right, Akaashi,” he said, his voice a purr that made resisting altogether much, much worse.

Akaashi’s two bedroom apartment was compact and perfect for a single man and he hadn’t for a minute thought it was a little too small, until he let in a man big enough to crowd him at the door. They shucked off their shoes, but before Akaashi could walk inside, the distance between them dwindled, and Akaashi’s heart began an erratic beat in his chest. Bokuto wasn’t the macho, gonna-shove-you-around stereotypical man Akaashi expected him to be. Rather, he slipped into Akaashi’s personal space gracefully, his breath warm against Akaashi’s neck. The way they didn’t quite touch made Akaashi’s skin break into goosebumps.

“Can I kiss you, pretty Akaashi?”

His face burned hot.

“Why do you have to ask?” he mumbled, putting down his briefcase and beginning to unbutton his blazer. He’d gone directly to the bar to meet Yukio after work and was now wondering if he’ll get to shower.

“Because it makes you turn so pink. It’s adorable,” Bokuto said, stepping closer with each word, his lips brushing Akaashi’s ear, sending a shiver right between his shoulder blades. They were pressed from shoulder to hip against Akaashi’s door now. He twisted, trying to get out of the incidental door-to-hot-body lock he was in, but he just managed to sensuously slide his chest against Bokuto’s impressive girth. God, the man was big. 

Akaashi wasn’t small by any measure, but he’d always been drawn to the brawny type that emphasized the difference. Where Akaashi was slim with a slight softness, Bokuto was simply big and thick. Something about the barely-controlled energy Bokuto’s promised made Akaashi’s dick even harder. The way Bokuto looked at him like he could swallow Akaashi in one long swallow dried up Akaashi’s mouth. His face, he knew, shouldn’t betray his thoughts, but still, Bokuto looked a bit too gleeful so he knew he’d been betrayed by his own body.

“So, can I?” he asked again and Akaashi realized he hadn’t given Bokuto an answer.

“Sure, whatever—” The rest of his word was eaten up by a pair of full, gentle lips. Bokuto kissed like they had all the time in the world, eyes closed, tongue teasing and slow. A heat began in Akaashi’s cheeks and went all the way to his toes. 

Being kissed this way, carefully, exploring every crevice of his mouth, was invasive and so fucking hot. Bokuto’s tongue rubbed against Akaashi’s lip, then when it slipped into his welcoming mouth, toying senselessly with him until Akaashi felt a little drool pool in his mouth. He was horny, god damn it. 

Taking matters in his hands, Akaashi nudged Bokuto and was delighted when it didn’t take much from him to turn them around and press Bokuto against the door. The man was putty in his hands, aware of the smallest nudge. There, that was much better. 

His hands rose instinctively to grab Bokuto’s wrists, which were tugging his tie loose, pulling them to his chest, feeling Bokuto’s rough palm against his thin shirt. Bokuto found his nipples, rubbing them incessantly, and Akaashi groaned, bucking his hips against the hardness in Bokuto’s pants. Once the stimulation was too much, he directed those hands to Bokuto’s full hips, pinning them there.

“Can you,” he pulled away for air, then went back to place another kiss on Bokuto’s cheek, “keep your hands there?”

Bokuto gave him a lazy smile and whispered, “Anything for you, pretty Akaashi.”

Gah. He shouldn’t feel ready to blow just from being called pretty. He trusted Bokuto to be sensible and keep his promise, he attacked Bokuto’s jacket. He took it off, hurriedly, all the while huffing because it meant leaving Bokuto’s mouth for a second. Once Bokuto was shirtless, Akaashi felt like he could breathe a lot easier. Or… was it the opposite? The image Bokuto presented was so good. His chest was muscular, all right, but it wasn’t perfect in the way western actors’ were. He wasn’t all defined abs and pecs sharp enough to cut. He had some softness to him around his hips, with a dark trail leading to his belt, and a nasty looking bruise by his left rib.

“What’s this from?” He sounded so worried, even to his own ears.

“Volleyball can be a contact sport, you know.” 

He frowned. “Yeah, but isn’t this too dangerous?”

Bokuto grinned. “You see, I have this move where I stop very strong serves with my chest.”

Akaashi had seen some videos before and knew what serves looked like. The way he clicked his tongue at Bokuto’s flippant response was entirely weird. Why did he care so much about this practical stranger’s unorthodox methods? “That’s so fucked up. You gotta stop that or you’ll hurt yourself permanently.”

Bokuto’s eyes softened, and he tilted his head to the side, the entryway light reflecting off the thin layer of sweat on his forehead. “Akaashi, you’re a darling for worrying, but… we have more pressing matters now.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Akaashi didn’t like the way anxiety slithered under his skin. Judging by Bokuto’s size, he was a capable volleyball player, but the nasty bruise didn’t look so good. He let Bokuto distract him with a kiss, however, this one was even more tender than the first one. Akaashi went back to stripping Bokuto of his clothes, and sighed at the way Bokuto trailed open mouthed kisses down his neck.

“Oh, fuck, this is nice,” he muttered when his hand finally slipped into Bokuto’s briefs and found the hot, hard length he’d been seeking out.

Bokuto’s cock was in proportion to the rest of him, which was a polite way to say Bokuto’s dick was big and so fucking yummy-looking. Akaashi licked his lips and wondered if he could fit it in his mouth from the first try. He wasn’t delusional but a little ambition never hurt anyone.

He wrapped his hand around it and gave it a slow, root to head stroke that made Bokuto lurch and bump his head against Akaashi’s collarbones. It wasn’t painful at all, but Akaashi wrapped his arm around Bokuto’s back, letting Bokuto lean against him as he delighted himself in finding out just how much Bokuto liked it when someone tugged and stroked his dick.

Akaashi prided himself on taking his time, finding the journey far more enticing than the destination, especially since Bokuto kept peppering in little cusses and hissed breaths when Akaashi’s hand tightened around his cock. And the way it drooled precome was particularly fascinating. Bokuto was circumcised, unlike Akaashi, and half of the reason he watched Bokuto so raptly. He was curious. Not because Bokuto looked ravished and utterly wrecked from a simple hand job. He mouthed Akaashi’s chin, kissed his cheek when Akaashi thumbed his slit then spread his precome all over his belly. Bokuto was endearing, all right, and there was nothing Akaashi wanted more than to see him unravel in his hand. But, as he was hurrying up his pace and teasing Bokuto’s side with his free hand, Bokuto began to shake in his hold.

“Ah, Akaashi, I can’t—I’m too close!” Bokuto whimpered, directly into Akaashi’s ear. His heart thudded in his chest.

“It’s okay, Bokuto, you can come.”

But the man whined, actually whined, and shook his head. “I don’t wanna.”

Amused, Akaashi slowed down his hand and used his wet fingers to cup Bokuto’s heavy balls. “Why? You look ready to burst here.”

Squirming, Bokuto kept his hands perfectly still against the door—still following Akaashi’s order like the good man he was—and huffed. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” He knew what he was doing, feathering his touch down Bokuto’s cock, continuing to tease his balls, and even rubbing his taint. Just a little and he could find Bokuto’s hole. His dick pulsed in his trousers at the idea. Would Bokuto let him there? Not many men who possessed Bokuto’s size were comfortable enough in their masculinity to get fucked by men who looked like Akaashi.

“I don’t wanna come alone. I wanna come with you, Akaashi,” Bokuto sighed, melting Akaashi’s heart into nothing.

Ah, this guy was bad for him.

Kissing Bokuto’s cheek, Akaashi let go of his cock and took a step back. He was amused at how Bokuto leaned towards him, mouth seeking Akaashi’s, kissing him so softly.

He pulled away again, relishing how Bokuto’s eyes followed his tongue as Akaashi licked his lower lip. He could tell him right now what he wanted. Matter of fact, he was about to. “That can be arranged but…” he trailed off, and Bokuto looked almost too precious then, silently begging Akaashi to continue. “I would like to tie you up and fuck you.”

Those golden eyes sharpened, lust momentarily turning Bokuto’s pupils huge. “Fuck. Yes.”

That was all Akaashi needed to gently pull Bokuto closer. Kissing his lovely lips, Akaashi continued to take off Bokuto’s last item of clothing as he led them further into the apartment and into the bedroom. He sat Bokuto down on his bed and splayed his hands over Bokuto’s body. Slightly tanned, Bokuto’s skin was a study in contrasts. He thumbed the tan lines where Bokuto’s tank top probably ended, then eyed the line around his crotch. Did Bokuto play some sort of beach volleyball game? In booty shorts? The image alone was too painful. 

First things first, he needed to follow through on his promise to fuck Bokuto. Akaashi moved towards his bedside table. He removed a key from his key chain and unlocked the only drawer with a lock. There, he found his preferred nylon rope for bondage, which he’d splurged on the previous year. Now, holding the loop in his hand, he was grateful. The black length will look amazing against Bokuto’s skin. He also pulled out a pair of industrial scissors, an opened packet of condoms, and a bottle of half-full lube. 

When Akashi turned to him, he found Bokuto eyes saucer big, and he was sitting seiza on Akaashi’s made bed. _Too, fucking, precious._ He wanted to take a mental picture. He showed Bokuto the robe and began by explaining. “What I want to do to you won’t be too hardcore but it will be restrictive and you’ll still need to use a safe word. Do you know what that means?”

Bokuto nodded. “I’m familiar. Is it for when I want you to stop?”

He was pleased, so he pressed a kiss to Bokuto’s forehead. “Yes and no. It’s also for when you want to express your comfort. Red is for stop, yellow is for pausing, and green is for go.”

Bokuto’s confidence was etched into his smile this time. “Got it.”

Akaashi couldn’t help his own grin; Bokuto’s enthusiasm was infectious. 

“Good. Have you done this before? Gotten tied up, I mean.”

Bokuto shook his head, a little dazed, but then he snapped to attention. “Sorry—I haven’t but… I thought of you doing it and now I’m a bit…” He didn’t need to explain, his cock was rock hard between his thighs.

Akaashi’s own arousal was begging for some relief, so he bent down and kissed Bokuto. Since he hadn’t asked Bokuto to keep still, Akaashi enjoyed the way Bokuto’s hands touched his back, tugging him closer, teasing his sides with feather light tickles. They ended up laid back, Bokuto kissing down his neck. He huffed a little, then moaned when Bokuto touched his knuckles to where his cock pressed against his trousers.

“Can I take your pants off, please?” Something in Bokuto’s tone made Akaashi’s blood boil. It wasn’t timid, but the request dripped with submissiveness. He wanted Akaashi so bad and couldn’t hide it. 

He nodded, throat too thick to speak the word. Bokuto slid his body between his knees, unzipping his pants. Akaashi sighed when his cock finally sprang out. He definitely needed a shower after a long shift, but the way Bokuto looked at his dick—like it was all he wanted in his mouth—made Akaashi buck his hip a little higher, until Bokuto opened his mouth and took his dick in.

“Fuck—” he groaned, covering Bokuto’s cheeks with his palms. Feeling the bump of his cockhead where it hit the inside of Bokuto’s cheek was so fucking hot; he almost blew his load.

Akaashi gently pulled his head off his cock but Bokuto’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, licking at and kissing Akaashi’s slit. Akaashi murmured softly, “Can’t—It’s been too long.” Akaashi knew he was being overly sentimental but he also wanted to come together.

Bokuto hummed, mouth occupied with Akaashi’s balls. He swallowed harshly and rolled away. Bokuto looked about to whine again. Something about a man this big, this strong, begging for his cock made Akaashi’s body swell with something he couldn’t name.

He’d never had someone so honest and good in bed before. 

“I don’t mind if you came in my mouth first then fucked me.”

He sighed, covered his face with one hand. “Bokuto… do you know what you sound like right now?”

“Yep,” Bokuto chirped, too proud of himself, which made Akaashi want to go ahead and bind and tease him until he cried. He wondered if Bokuto was into _that_.

“Well, get on your belly, please. Do you want me to talk to you as I tie you up?” 

Bokuto followed instructions, saying a muffled, “Yes, please,” into the mattress. 

“All right… well, first I’ll need you to cross your arms behind your back. Yes, just like that. Good. I’ll tie them up. As you can feel, the knot is tight, but I have scissors and they’ll cut through them very easily if needed.” He paused to tug at the knot, finding it satisfactory, before he moved on to Bokuto’s arms, all the while paying close attention to how Bokuto breathed. Deep and slow. Good. “Now, I’ll bind your arms. This might be tricky if you’re not flexible.”

“No way, I’m super flexible.” To prove himself, Bokuto twisted back without moving his arms, giving Akaashi a bright grin. Akaashi wanted to laugh at the affront in Bokuto’s voice but was equally turned on by his confidence.

“All right. Well, okay. I’ll go ahead and…” The process of tying someone up was a huge turn on for Akaashi, especially since he was given proper permission to talk. He liked that Bokuto responded to his words, his voice breathless and eyes glazed over as Akaashi moved from his arms to his legs, binding Bokuto’s ankles to the top of his thighs. The position meant Bokuto would need to be splayed out, his lovely, round ass spread for him.

“Is this comfortable?” he asked, voice thick. The very air changed quality, turning heavy and laden with tension.

“Mm-mm, I like it, Akaashi.”

As a treat, Akaashi pressed a feather-light kiss right above Bokuto’s ass, and the man sighed.

“Try and wriggle. You’ll find your movements are restricted. Is this all right?”

Bokuto’s answer was in the form of his body relaxing ever further and giving Akaashi a lazy smile. “Never felt better. But… do you think you can… fuck me while I’m on my back?”

His eyes widened. “It might strain your shoulders, though.”

Bokuto’s lip quivered. “I don’t mind. If only for a little bit.”

Never had he thought he’d feel so tender over a one-night-stand. Akaashi nodded. “I’ll…move you later, okay?”

Gladness coated Bokuto’s expression. He let out a deep, relieved sigh. “That’s great, because, uh, I’m… kind of making a mess of your sheets.”

That didn’t matter to Akaashi at all, he quite liked that Bokuto’s cock was so honest and desperate. He maneuvered Bokuto around, resting a pillow under his cheek, then asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Mm-hmm… That feels nice.”

He hadn’t noticed that he’d been trailing his palm up and down Bokuto’s back, and now was startled at the tenderness in Bokuto’s tone. He’d rarely had such good chemistry with his partners before. “I just…” Bokuto began and stopped.

Akaashi sneaked a hand around Bokuto’s chest and found his hardened nipples. He tweaked them. “Speak up. I can’t read your mind.” Though he would love to. 

“Can you… finger my ass? I haven’t done this in a while and I’m a bit…it takes me a while to loosen up.”

That was possibly the hottest thing Akaashi had ever heard, which made him want to lose a bit of his composure. He closed his eyes and kissing Bokuto’s ass, biting faintly around one perfectly round cheek, relishing in Bokuto’s moan.

“Fuck, yes, I like that. Yeah. Gah, Akaashi—” Bokuto cried out when Akaashi placed a lubed finger against his ass. He wasn’t very particular about how he liked to prepare his partners, but he enjoyed the way Bokuto whined and rubbed his cheek against Akaashi’s pillow, murmuring soft nonsense that would have embarrassed Akaashi had it been from anyone else. He made sure to be patient, despite how his cock slapped against his shirt (he still hadn’t gotten around to taking off any piece of clothing; too preoccupied by the gorgeous, naked, bound man in his bed.) 

He kissed a trail up Bokuto’s back as his hands worked, loosening Bokuto’s ass, liking the way his sweat tasted on his tongue, he took a long lick in tandem with how he moved his fingers (now two) inside Bokuto. The man was an image of relaxation, his head buried in Akaashi’s pillow and body as tender as warmed butter—which spoke volumes of how much he trusted Akaashi. That, alone, could have gotten him off. This was more than just a bondage scene, this was quickly becoming the best sex of his life.

Akaashi didn’t consider himself a sex god or anything, but he knew his way to turning men delirious with pleasure, and now, put it to work. He smiled when he found Bokuto’s prostate, rubbing until he turned Bokuto into a mewling mess. He was drooling now, making a mess of the pillow under his cheek. Even his eyelashes glistened with unshed tears when Akaashi felt no resistance and stopped.

“I think you’re ready.”

“Mm-mm—more, I want more. I want you. Put your dick in me, now.”

Bossiness had never sounded so good before. Akaashi had never been so involved in the BDSM community, but he suddenly wanted to teach Bokuto everything he knew. Maybe take him to witness a scene. That, of course, required them to be more than a one-night-stand to one another. He shouldn’t feel so disappointed at the thought of not having another taste of Bokuto, so he distracted himself by finally taking a minute to get naked, which he did embarrassingly fast, then got a condom. He made sure Bokuto heard the sound of the wrapper as he sheathed himself. He squirted a decent amount of lube into his hand and, after letting it warm it up, wrapped his dick. He moaned. He needed that. He was rubbing the back of Bokuto’s thigh with his right hand, stroking himself with his left, and mouthing at Bokuto’s shoulder blade when he finally pressed into the tight ring.

Except Bokuto, continuing his act of Best Submissive Ever, was utterly and totally accepting. Instead of resistance, there was Bokuto’s body opening up for him, heat and softness turning his brain to mush. He wanted to cry and propose at the same time. Instead, he rested his forehead against Bokuto’s sweaty back and bottomed out.

His spine shivered, the base of his balls ached, and he wanted to blow so… hard. He paid close attention to Bokuto, watched how he screwed his eyes shut. Did he hurt him?

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” Bokuto answered his thought. Nope. Akaashi found himself grinning. “That’s so fucking good,” Bokuto was saying, voice deep and guttural. 

“I’m glad I’m satisfactory.”

“Akaashi, you’re—Gah! It’s more than that… It feels so fucking good.”

To emphasize his gratitude for Bokuto’s honesty, Akaashi placed his hands next to Bokuto’s bound arms and slid all the way out except for the tip. He left that in and waited. He loved the feeling this gave him, but what he loved more was realization downing on Bokuto and the way he sighed for more. “Please, Akaashi, stop teasing.”

He even tried to wriggle back, but Akaashi had done a great job binding him. He couldn’t move an inch. He didn’t know how Bokuto might react in this situation—being helpless didn’t suit everyone—but the way he melted into the mattress and shuddered wasn’t it.

“Are you all right, Bokuto?” he couldn’t disguise his concern.

“Mmmmm, just perfect. Keep doing that. Tease me. I—I needed this.”

Never once had Akaashi considered that inside of him existed a spot reserved just for Bokuto Koutarou’s needy voice. 

His hips moved steadily at first, his thrusts shallow and slow.Then when the sight of Bokuto’s asshole stretching around his cock began to chip at his control, Akaashi let himself go. He didn’t quite lose control, but was delighted in the way his body was discovering new ways to seek out both his and Bokuto’s pleasure. He’d never been the kind to pound senselessly into someone’s body, but this was different. He held onto Bokuto, inhaled his scent, and bit gently at his shoulders. So much power had never surrendered to him. He felt euphoric. 

He fucked into Bokuto like he might never get the chance again; he poured into it his frustration, at first, then let his experienced body lead him towards finding Bokuto’s lovely spot. Once found, Akaashi wasted no time in tormenting Bokuto right where it made him keen and beg for release.

“You’ll be good for me, right, Bokuto? You won’t come until I do, right? You said it earlier. We need to come together.” He whispered the words fervently, half-delirious with how good it felt to be engulfing Bokuto in his body. 

In response, Bokuto began sobbing, every word a different variation of “Yes” and “Please.”

Akaashi couldn’t have asked for a better man, really, and as a treat, he balanced Bokuto on his back, carefully placing another pillow behind his arms so he wouldn’t put his entire weight on them. This proved to be crucial because if the sight of Bokuto’s back, broad and glistening, was good, then his front was devastating. His chest was red from the friction against the sheets and from how much he was liking Akaashi’s fucking. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else; not when he looked at Akaashi with hooded-eyes and a satisfied grin.

“Why did I not get the memo that you’re so fucking sexy underneath that boring outfit?”

Akaashi bit his lip to stop himself from snorting. Never had he ever been so turned on by a man insulting his clothes, but there was a first to everything. “I was coming out of work, what do you expect me to wear, spandex?”

Bokuto grinned, lifting his hips a little, sighing when Akaashi slipped back inside his heat. “Maybe. Kinda wonder what you’ll look like in leather, though.”

And…there went Akaashi’s control. 

It wasn’t his fault, really. Bokuto simply accepted him, rough and fast, begging and crying and so fucking good. Their bodies were more than compatible, they were harmonious. When Akaashi came to, his face was spent, resting his cheek on Bokuto’s pec, and kissing Bokuto’s nipple. Wow. What a position to die in. He didn’t dawdle and gently pulled out, tying the condom carefully and disposing of it in a wad of tissues from his bedside table. 

“Bokuto.”

The man answered with a bleary, “Mm-hmm?” that only made Akaashi smile. Then he went on with the business of untying Bokuto’s knots. He was experienced enough to do this with his eyes closed, but he watched, with almost frantic need, to see how the vinyl had left faint lines across Bokuto’s skin. The view was astonishing and so overwhelming, he could almost feel himself hardening all over again. Once entirely free, Bokuto touched his wrists, checking out the marks with a little smile.

“Did it hurt?”

He shook his head. “It felt great. Really.” He leaned into Akaashi, giving him a bright grin. Then planted a deep kiss on Akaashi, the force of him so sudden it made Akaashi fall back into the bed and take Bokuto with him. They lay there, kissing lazily, hands roaming one another’s bodies. Bokuto let out a soft moan when Akaashi’s cock rubbed against his, pulling away a little.

“Too soon. I get too sensitive afterward.”

Akaashi wanted to eat him. Instead, he gently unwrapped himself from Bokuto and went to grab a wet towel. He took special care to clean up every inch of Bokuto’s body as the man lay prone and preening under his attention. Bokuto drank the entire bottle of water Akaashi handed him, thanking him with a quick peck on his cheek.

Once done with his own bottle, Akaashi offered him a pair of boxers. Bokuto shook his head, “I prefer to sleep naked.” He made such a precious image, all snuggled under Akaashi’s covers like he belonged there.

Eyebrow raised, Akaashi didn’t argue against it, and shucked them behind him. He could tidy up later. Now, he slid under the covers with Bokuto. Immediately, those massive arms came around his waist, and Bokuto rested his cheek on Akaashi’s chest. He looked up at Akaashi with twinkling, golden eyes. He kissed the tips of Bokuto’s nose as if it were second nature. Bokuto reached over and turned off the only light in the room. The darkness settled around them. 

“That was really nice of you. Thank you.” The words were whispered between them, Bokuto’s breath hot and voice sweet this close. Akaashi didn’t have it in him to think of waking up to an empty bed, so he hugged Bokuto close to his heart and let himself fall asleep. 

  
  


Akaashi woke up to the smell of frying eggs. His starving stomach took him to the kitchen and there, he found Bokuto, wearing the only apron Akaashi ever owned and never wore—it was too pink and frilly for his taste and sort of a prank gift from his high school buddies. Except on Bokuto, it looked fucking fantastic. Especially since Bokuto wore the apron and nothing else. Watching his perfectly ass, pale in comparison to his thick, tan thighs, was Akaashi’s highlight of the morning.

“Good morning, darling,” Bokuto sang, carrying two plates of omurice. He’d drawn a distorted heart on Akaashi’s, but the gesture was too sweet for Akaashi to care.

He felt hot tears forming in his eyes, but bless his heart, Bokuto didn’t comment. He handed Akaashi a spoon, who in turn said, “Thank you for the food.” Thank god for Bokuto Koutarou. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely friend Nikki for both asking me to write this (I needed it) and for beta-reading!
> 
> This is entirely new for me so I apologize for any misused terminology and if I overlooked any detail. I wanted to write a lovely, BDSM scene where Akaashi took care of Bokuto and I hoped I did them justice.
> 
> Kudos, comments, and criticism are highly appreciated!


	2. Rely on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is exhausted.

Akaashi didn’t know how it was another month yet he was in the same position from the previous month. He closed his eyes, squeezed his nose bridge, and leaned his head back. He hadn’t taken off his glasses for forty-eight hours so doing so now felt orgasmic. He hadn’t eaten anything more substantial than store bought snacks. His stomach grumbled. He’d kill for a Miya Onigiri. His mouth watered.

 _Two more pages_ , he repeated to himself, a litany of hope that barely got him through his last manuscript of the week. It was Friday, at last, and he didn’t have any extra work for the weekend. No more working overtime. He’d been pulling twelve hours long shifts since—he straightened up. Since the beginning of the week when Bokuto had gone away on his training camp.

To say he missed Bokuto would be an understatement. Since he’d casually let the man into his life and the way Bokuto lit up Akaashi’s world threw his miserable routine into the light. He was miserable without Bokuto.

He checked his phone. Thirteen text messages. Oh yeah. The last one he’d gotten from Bokuto wasn’t at all appropriate for work so he’d silenced his phone and put it aside. He looked around. The office wasn’t empty, but most of his colleagues had their eyes glued to their monitors. The person closest to him, Ms. Hayato, was even chewing the end of her pencil, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to check Bokuto’s messages.

The first was an update on Bokuto’s day, what he’d eaten and how many practice games he won. Then there was a series of pictures. A selfie with a player with bright eyes who looked at Bokuto like the man hung the moon especially intrigued Akaashi.

“Akaashi-san.” He almost jumped out of his seat but curbed his reaction.

“Yes, Hayato-san?” Deftly, he locked his phone and placed it face down on his desk.

“Were you smiling? It’s rude, you know, with us melting away from the workload. What, did your girlfriend send you something good?” she teased, not unkindly.

He touched a hand to his cheek. Hm. So, he had been smiling. “Not at all. I… saw something funny on Twitter.”

Her eyes squinted; the skepticism clear in her dark eyes. Then after a long stare, she huffed and got up. “I’m going for a cigarette. Want to join me?” He considered the offer. He’d picked up smoking briefly during college then quit once one of his partners complained of how he smelled.

“No, thank you.”

She shrugged then went on her way.

He checked the rest of Bokuto’s messages. More selfies with his teammates; a smirking man with two-toned hair, another man with a frown and two moles over his right eyebrow; and the bright eyed one again. Akaashi’s chest gave a little twinge.

The last of Bokuto’s text was from two hours ago. The dim lights indicated he was in bed since Akaashi couldn’t see much except for the outline of Bokuto’s hair, spiky as ever. He didn’t realize he was swiping the pad of his thumb over his screen until he heard someone clearing their throat.

Quietly, Akaashi put his phone deep into his drawer and continued to work.

Around five past midnight, Akaashi walked home after stopping by to buy another convenience store meal—sadly, no onigiri. He vowed to get some Miya Onigiri tomorrow as a treat for a job well done.

The apartment, which had seemed so small with Bokuto in it, now looked vacant and vacuous. He put his briefcase by his desk, began unbuttoning his shirt and untying his tie all at once, shrugging out of his pants, then throwing his clothes in the hamper. He’ll do laundry tomorrow.

The allure of his bed was too seductive but he needed a bath and food. He fell asleep as soon as he finished his meal and slid underneath the covers

The knocking jolted Akaashi right out of a deep sleep. He’d been dreaming of golden eyes gleaming up at him as a lush mouth swallowed around his cock. He looked around for his glasses but didn’t find them in the darkness. He opened the door in his underwear, too bleary to care, and was met with a familiar image of a grinning mouth and spiky hair.

“Did you miss me?” Bokuto spread his arms wide, dressed in shorts and a thin T-shirt.

Akaashi’s stomach tightened, and he reached over, wrapped his arm around Bokuto’s neck, and drew him inside. He breathed Bokuto in, his fresh, lemon-scented shampoo hitting his nose, his warmth easing Akaashi’s worry in a bone-melting, tight hug. They held onto each other, Akaashi’s breathing loud to his ear, until he heard Bokuto’s erratic heartbeat under his palm. He found Bokuto’s lips easily, bit his lower lip, nibbled until Bokuto was whining softly.

“You’re sleepy, Akaashi.”

“Doesn’t matter. Need you.” He touched Bokuto’s cheeks, felt the burning fire there, and smiled.

They tumbled into Akaashi’s rumpled sheets, and Akaashi wasted no time stripping Bokuto. He put his lips on every inch of skin he could find; Bokuto’s cheeks, his jaw. Collarbones were sucked and bitten, his neck was thoroughly kissed, his chest especially was groped by hungry hands. He lowered his head onto Bokuto’s heaving chest, loving the tight hold Bokuto had on his hair, and sucked a nipple into his mouth. He looked up, but it was too dark.

“Turn on the bedside light.”

“Why?” Bokuto’s voice was a wrecked whisper.

“I wanna see you,” Akaashi said, mouth full of Bokuto’s strong pecs. Grateful that Bokuto reached over and switched the light on, Akaashi bit down.

Bokuto’s hips bucked, cock hard, precome pearling at the slit. Akaashi wanted to drink every drop. Replenish. He was ravenous. He abandoned his post at Bokuto’s chest and dragged a tongue towards where he was desperate to set camp. Bokuto’s body seemed more sensitive than that week they spent in Akaashi’s apartment, testing their boundaries; learning what they both liked together. Now, Akaashi could write volumes about Bokuto. How every instant, when he put his mouth on Bokuto’s cock, tongued the head between his lips, relaxed his throat and swallowed the man’s cock whole, was a new, holy experience.

Akaashi’s jaw didn’t dare complain, he wanted this more than air. He needed to fill his senses with this man who somehow sneaked out of a training camp and showed up at Akaashi’s apartment. He wrapped a hand around Bokuto’s length, strokes harmonious with the speed with which he sucked. Bokuto was an incoherent mess of _yes_ , _just like that,_ and _darling Akaashi_. Every word was an arrow in Akaashi’s heart, embedding him further into this state of hunger. He felt wild with it. like if he didn’t act, it’d burn him from the inside out.

He reached for Bokuto’s hands, loosened their hold on the sheets, and brought them to his head. He stopped worshiping Bokuto’s cock just for the second it took him to say, “Hold onto me.”

Bokuto’s body sagged, and he whimpered, his cock pulsing in Akaashi’s hold, his come hot and spurting onto Akaashi’s hands and Bokuto’s belly.

Akaashi didn’t waste a drop, licking Bokuto from root to tip, humming when Bokuto whined about being sensitive. Once satisfied with Bokuto’s taste on his tongue, Akaashi reached for the wet napkins in his drawer and cleaned him up, slow and gentle, Bokuto’s cock twitching in the process.

“Mmmmm, that’s nice.”

Akaashi couldn’t speak. Logic was making its return to his mind, but all he could think of was asking Bokuto to stay for the weekend with him. Bokuto probably had to return to the camp in the morning, but Akaashi wanted to hog his time, tie him up and keep him in his apartment until the very air was thick with their intermingling scents. He tried to shake the lovely image of waking up in Bokuto’s arms out of his head, but only managed to accidentally dislodge Bokuto’s hands from his hair.

“Can you stay the night?” That, at least, would be sweet consolation.

Bokuto’s smile was small. “Yeah. I will take the first bus back.”

“How did you get here?” Bokuto rubbed his back, his hands so big and warm that Akaashi didn’t ever want him to stop. When those hands gripped his hips and turned them around, Akaashi moaned. He liked Bokuto’s weight on him.

He didn’t have the chance to ask Bokuto to ride him yet, but this was good. Bokuto climbed half on him, a thigh loosely wrapped around Akaashi’s thigh, hand sneaking down his chest, rubbing his thigh, grabbing his cock so clandestinely that the shock of pleasure sneaked up on Akaashi. A whimper left his mouth, so he raised a hand to stifle the sound, but Bokuto tutted.

“Don’t dare. I wanna hear you.”

He gave Bokuto a bleary smile. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Ahhhhh, I took a taxi.”

“What?” He almost got entirely off the mattress but Bokuto pushed him back. “How much did that cost you? You were at least two hours away.”

“Don’t mind that. Pro volleyball players get paid well.” With that, Bokuto lowered his head, eyes closing, short eyelashes fluttering over his cheekbones as he took Akaashi’s cock into his mouth. Akaashi was helpless to simply watch, fist his hands in the sheets, and bite his lips raw. What was this beast of an emotion in his chest?

They didn’t speak about _their relationship_. Didn’t put any labels. They had fun together. Bokuto discovering his submissive side and letting himself be spoiled rotten by Akaashi—who enjoyed said spoiling. Matter of fact, Akaashi loved giving Bokuto exactly what he wanted. What he asked for, voice whiny and high. It was gratifying to have a man this strong and big be a malleable mess in Akaashi’s hands. How Bokuto gave over his control and consent to Akaashi like it was second nature.

Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he liked being around another person; feeling this all-encompassing joy. Bokuto was contagious and pure, his attention handed over without ulterior motives.

Besides, he was so fucking hot. The lines of his shoulders were a mixture of light and dark in the dim room, but Akaashi could map out the skin there. The tiny bruises from his aggressive way of playing. He reached out, holding onto the top of those arms, pulling until Bokuto let his cock slip of his lips with an obscene pop.

Bokuto smiled as Akaashi kissed him, his tongue soft, chin bumping into Akaashi’s, as gentle as ever. He tilted Akaashi’s head higher, raising himself on his knees, bracketing Akaashi’s hips. When Bokuto lowered his hips over Akaashi’s cock, Akaashi sighed. He didn’t think he had enough energy to fuck, but the way Bokuto grabbed both of their cocks, grip tight and fast, wrist moving; pushing Akaashi over the edge with every twist, this he could handle.

He came hot and fast into Bokuto’s hand, sagging back into the bed. He couldn’t even open his eyes long enough to watch Bokuto clean them up. Mirroring Akaashi’s movements from before.

Once done, Bokuto grabbed the blankets and covered them both, his body a furnace next to Akaashi. His bones turned into jelly, and he let Bokuto grab him by the hips and nudge him into his arms. His head was under Bokuto’s chin, his arms growing numb from being squished under all their collective weight, but he didn’t care. He twisted his fingers through Bokuto’s, brought that hand to his mouth, kissing its knuckles.

“Thank you for coming to me.”

Had he opened his eyes, Akaashi would have seen the blatant adoration in Bokuto’s eyes. He would have recognized it instantly; mirroring his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, so much for a one-shot! I like this tiny universe so I'll continue writing in it.


	3. Perfect Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto wants to go on a date. Akaashi has an epiphany.

Akaashi had a system he liked to follow on his days off. He started the morning by making breakfast, something that took longer than ten minutes to prepare. Sometimes he indulged in fluffy pancakes, and even took pictures to update his dust-covered Instagram. Then, he’d proceed to clean said kitchen and reorganize his cupboards. He didn’t own many items, so he liked to keep an inventory of what was good and what needed replacing. From there, he’d move into the bathroom. Scrub the surfaces, make sure to get any growing mold out of the corners. He usually lit a candle afterward, to get the scent of bleach out of the air.

Then it was the living room’s turn. Since it was so small, getting cluttered with books and sheaves of paper was the norm. He’d organize those, tie the papers he needed to take out for recycling with a string. He went through his books. He couldn’t keep many, so he always inspected his piles. Those he read and didn’t plan on reading again went into a donation pile. Those he’d gotten through work and finished would go back to the office for anyone else to check out. Those he loved were moved into _the_ bookcase. It was dark brown and took space over the entire left wall of the living room. It was his favorite thing about his apartment. He liked to think he had a curated collection. Books that could map out his feelings and thoughts, even those he himself couldn’t navigate so easily.

The bedroom was the last stop in his cleaning spree. He’d first change the sheets and pillow cases, then air the room out, keeping the window open as he did the laundry. Thankfully his apartment building had a laundry room with installed washers and dryers. The days of doing his laundry by hand and hanging them on the ropes in the balcony were long gone. By then, his hands would start feeling the strain of constant wiping and mopping. He’d take a break, eat some leftovers from breakfast, and drink a can of beer.

He liked his routine. It gave him the time to unwind. Stop thinking. Put work, life, and other nuisances in a box and seal it tightly.

Akaashi didn’t want to change his routine. Not so radically. But his days off weren’t days of calm anymore. They were for waking up next to a warm body that melted away Akaashi’s stress, a bright grin that greeted him and promised a good day ahead, and a question.

“Do you want eggs and toast for breakfast?”

Ever since that night when Bokuto had sneaked out of training and every minute he had was spend in Akaashi’s place. Mainly, his bedroom. Bokuto’s thighs were nicely lined from last night’s little bondage scene they’d tried out. Akaashi swiped a hand up and down the span of those marks now, knew that, with time, they’d disappear.

Akaashi threaded his hands through Bokuto’s hair, liking how the wild-looking strands were actually super soft. They weren’t so uplifted after Bokuto’s shower the previous night and framed his face now. The look made him appear so much tamer than Akaashi knew him to be.

Akaashi tipped Bokuto’s face closer, pressed his lips to Bokuto’s cheeks, one by one, until Bokuto was blushing up a storm, and Akaashi was growing aware of his morning wood. He rolled them over, kissed Bokuto’s lips, ground his hips against Bokuto’s until they were both panting in a frantic rhythm. He never thought of himself as someone base and so energetic for sex before. But whenever he’d get a whiff of Bokuto’s scent, his sweat-soaked skin, or looked into his gleaming eyes, this insatiable monster would rear its head inside Akaashi, and he’d pounce.

It’d been a little over three months since that night when he’d brought Bokuto home with him and Akaashi had gotten used to someone in bed with him. He was waking up, fourth day in row, with an aching back, because once again, he’d fucked Bokuto until the wee hours of the morning. His professional performance was going to start to suffer. He’d managed to keep his nightly activities from affecting his work and his tiredness from his supervisor’s notice, but he was bound to make a catastrophic mistake sometime soon.

But, waking up next to his furnace of a lover, his face squished against Bokuto’s broad back, Akaashi had felt actual happiness.

Bokuto, especially, seemed to enjoy Akaashi’s unrestrained lovemaking in the morning. He let out these tiny, incredibly sexy moans that broke Akaashi’s brain. His body responded to every little touch, his hips shaking, and cock leaking, his eyes never closed, they stared Akaashi down, demanding and begging in the same light.

 _Want you_ , the beast in Akaashi growled. It nearly made him break the bed one night, as he experienced what he could only describe as an utter lack of control. Bokuto had simply held him afterward, kissing Akaashi’s shoulder and rubbing his stomach.

“Mmmm, Akaashi,” Bokuto whined now, pulling Akaashi out of his thoughts. “Faster. Faster. I want you to mess me up.”

His wishes were Akaashi’s commands. Bokuto’s hole was slick and soft, remembering Akaashi’s shape, molding around his cock from the vigorous fucking they’d been doing. He lifted Bokuto’s hips higher, his knees set on the mattress, and pounded into Bokuto with all the strength he possessed.

It left them a sweaty, jumbled, post-climax mess. Akaashi could barely lift an arm, nonetheless clean the entire apartment. Bokuto, monstrous energy aside, nuzzled happily into Akaashi’s side.

“Say, Akaashi. Do you want to go on a date today?”

He peered down at the tiny grin Bokuto wore. “A date?”

The grin brightened. “Yeah! Like, I love hanging out here and having sex but maybe we can go somewhere fun today. Like, an amusement park. Or a cafe. Or, or, or, an aquarium!” Bokuto’s suggestions got wilder by the second, rambling on and on about going to the zoo and petting owls. Akaashi reached out to grab his glasses, put them on, and saw that yeah, it was Bokuto all right, gazing down at him, naked except for the sheet wrapped around his hips. It wasn’t some god that had descended to bless Akaashi. Just… Bokuto.

“Don’t you have any practice today?”

Bokuto pursed his lips. “Well, since we’re mostly doing personal training these days, I took today off. To be here with you.”

There. That was a clear sign Akaashi wasn’t alone in thinking that this thing between them was substantial and important.

He nodded. “All right. Let’s go on a date.”

That prompted Bokuto to let out a loud squeal and pounce on Akaashi for another exhausting, thrilling round of sex.

An hour later, Akaashi was ignoring the twinge in his lower back, and Bokuto was getting dressed. “I’ll meet you in the train station. See you, Akaashi.” He peppered kisses on Akaashi’s face then sprinted out of the bedroom. Akaashi could hear the clatter of Bokuto’s feet, followed by the click of the door.

Akaashi truly hadn’t expected to ever fall in love with someone like Bokuto, who showed up to their date right on time, dressed in a bright yellow shirt and hip-hugging light-blue jeans. Akaashi felt drab in comparison in his plain white button-up shirt and tan trousers. At least he’d put a little effort with his hair.

Some might assume Akaashi had walked out of a fashion magazine for the way Bokuto gushed, running towards him, uncaring for the many pairs of eyes following him. Something blossomed in Akaashi’s chest when he noticed how many people stared at Bokuto’s body, lust clear in their eyes. He wrapped his arm around Bokuto’s back, a thrilling warmth spreading over him when Bokuto gave him a small, private smile. Taller and bigger than Akaashi, Bokuto seemed to bloom whenever Akaashi made an attempt to protect him.

In the train ride, when it got so crowded that they had to be squished into a corner, Bokuto’s cheeks turned a soft pink when Akaashi had to step into his personal space and place an arm around him.

Akaashi wasn’t one to talk. He felt a special kind of pride at making Bokuto blush and stammer. He placed his other hand on the door window behind Bokuto, securely boxing them in their little corner, and leaned closer.

“Are you all right?” he asked, simply to have a chance to speak into Bokuto’s ear.

As he expected, Bokuto shivered, nodding. How did the confident man turn into a mess just for Akaashi?

They stood there, bodies pressed close, breaths coming faster by each passing station, until the crowd lessened, and Akaashi physically felt Bokuto relax against him. At some point, the train juddered, and Akaashi hurriedly placed a hand on Bokuto’s hip to steady him and then didn’t remove it. He could feel Bokuto’s warm skin through the fabric of his shirt, and he saw how Bokuto’s chest rose faster when Akaashi tightened his hold on him. It was intoxicating to watch Bokuto react to him. Like everything Akaashi did was another button pushing Bokuto wild. He wanted to push all of Bokuto’s buttons, and wanted to know Bokuto in a way no one else did.

Their train ride was unnecessarily long, but when they finally took shaky steps up the station stairs then into the busy street, Akaashi appreciated the effort. It’d been a while since he’d gone anywhere fun, and the amusement park Bokuto took him to was nothing if not fun.

“Let me, please,” he tried to pay at the entrance, but Bokuto had already paid for their entry tickets and was carefully wrapping the pass around Akaashi’s wrist by the time Akaashi reached for his wallet.

“This was my idea, remember?”

Akaashi’s mind flashed not to Bokuto’s request for a date, but to the messy way he sucked Akaashi’s dick that morning. He swallowed thickly and nodded.

Once inside, Bokuto turned into an overenthusiastic toddler, gasping over every mascot he saw walking around and handing out balloons to kids and adults alike. When Bokuto received a red heart, he turned around and kindly offered it to Akaashi.

“This is for you, lovely Akaashi.”

Akaashi could barely keep the smile off his face. He accepted it, wrapping it around his wrist, letting Bokuto see that he didn’t want it to accidentally escape his grasp. They walked close enough for their hands to touch, bending over the map and checking out game descriptions, attempting to decide where to stop first. There were so many options, Bokuto scrunched his face and professed choosing too difficult a task.

“How about we start there?” Akaashi pointed at a roller-coaster. Rolling Thunder was over a hundred kilometers high in the air and prided itself on being the most THRILLING of rides, or so the map had exaggerated.

It took no time for Bokuto to drag Akaashi to the Rolling Thunder, as if Akaashi hadn’t been the one to suggest it, and get in line. They didn’t wait for long, but Akaashi enjoyed having Bokuto regale him with tales of his youth when he was in high school, sneaking away to amusement parks with the rest of the volleyball team and riding the same roller-coaster until he’d be so dizzy, he couldn’t walk.

“My friends hated that about me. No one could handle this much energy.”

Akaashi didn’t know he was doing it until he wrapped his hand around Bokuto’s big one, bringing it closer to his chest, uncaring for anyone watching them. Let them watch. He’d kick anyone’s ass for trying to harass them on their date. Especially if holding Bokuto’s hand meant Bokuto would look at Akaashi like he hung the moon.

The ride was thrilling, indeed, so thrilling that only once was enough to knock out whatever had remained of Akaashi’s energy. Bokuto didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t want to go a second round, and instead dragged Akaashi to the food kiosks. They shared greasy food, sitting at nearby benches, summer filling the air with a certain energy Akaashi hadn’t felt in a long time. Sitting there, watching Bokuto eat an entire gigantic onigiri, then give Akaashi a broad grin, that was happiness.

They made it through two more rides, whirling and swirling through the air, until Akaashi reached his limits. Bokuto was more than obliging, pulling Akaashi to the shade, settling into an area sparse of people but abundant with grass and flowers.

“Come here.” He patted down his thigh. Akaashi gave him a skeptical look. It was one thing to hold Bokuto’s hand in public; putting his head in Bokuto’s lap was a whole new territory. But Bokuto kept looking at him, eyes clear and smirk shrewd. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing to Akaashi.

Not reluctantly, Akaashi slid down to his knees, then laid his head in Bokuto’s lap as instructed. The tree above shaded them from the brilliance of the sun, and Bokuto’s cool drink had turned his palm soothingly cold as Bokuto rested it against Akaashi’s cheek. He let his eyes close, and the last thing he glimpsed was that same small, intimate smile Bokuto wore. The smile preserved just for Akaashi.

That night, Akaashi had an epiphany. It happened during his nightly bath except he wasn’t alone in the tub. No. He was squished, back against Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto had climbed in after him like it was the most natural thing course of action. Akaashi traced his fingertips against Bokuto’s arm on the rim of the tub. His skin was so warm and lightly dusted with dark hair, soft to the touch but incredibly strong. That same hand Akaashi fiddled with now turned and came to rest on his chest, its calloused fingers tickling Akaashi. _This is what I want. I want my boyfriend hugging me in the bath after a long day lazing in the sun and eating snacks on our days off._

“Bokuto, do you want to move in together?” he said, keeping his eyes on the bubble in his lap. When Bokuto took a bit too long for Akaashi’s liking to respond, which was right around the time Akaashi’s inner monologues would normally begin, overanalyzing the silence as Bokuto’s secret dislike for him, he turned and peeked at Bokuto.

Bokuto had his head resting back against the wall, mouth open and eyes shut. He was sleeping. His hair was plastered to the side of his face, and he looked so at peace. Akaashi’s next move was borne out of wanting to move Bokuto to the bedroom and save him a cold from sleeping in the bath, not at all because he wanted to test his own physical capabilities.

Turned out, carrying a man that was a bit over eighty kilograms was all about positioning and timing. Akaashi had Bokuto sprawled in bed in five minutes and dressed in Akaashi’s own shorts and short-sleeved T-shirt in three. Bokuto did not even stir.

Then, in the quiet evening, Akaashi went to the kitchen, and for once, his mind wasn’t blank except for the mechanics of turning his kitchen spotless, it was whirring. Figuring out living costs, distance, and most important, how he and Bokuto would fit together in one space. An outcome that didn’t have them live the rest of their lives together was simply ignored. Akaashi knew what he wanted and was set out to get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, all right. I wanted to write one more sickeningly soft scene. This fic all together is all fuzz and zero angst. I don't think I ever could write BokuAka angst, to be honest. They deserve fluff. Hope you enjoyed it and remember to comment and tell me your favorite parts because that's why I write! (I like attention, icymi)


	4. One Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi and Bokuto celebrate a year of dating with a little roleplay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter related tags: Bokuto in Lingerie, versatile couple, Top!Bokuto, Bottom!Akaashi, No Condom Sex, very consensual

The bar wasn’t at its full capacity yet, but Akaashi could barely withstand the stifling heat of being sandwiched between two people. The second the seat the corner cleared up, he picked up his drink and walked over. He normally preferred its vantage point so he could observe the bar goers. Except tonight, adrenaline coursed through his veins so swiftly it left him lightheaded. The granite top under his fingers made for a solid soft thud as he tapped his fingers, nerves sliding across his skin, turning everything a little hazy. He faintly noticed the person on his right picking up their drink and moving on, and breathing felt a little easier. That, however, was a big mistake on Akaashi’s part, because just then, the heat at his back tripled.

He let out a barely-there sigh, his anticipation reaching its peak. “Is this seat taken?” said a velvety voice that traipsed all across Akaashi’s neck and caressed his ear, turning him supernova with need.

“Not at all,” Akaashi replied, his hands fisted now, holding onto his last shred of willpower. _Keep it together, Keiji_ , he told himself.

There was a rustle and a soft click of heels against the floor, then a strong thigh, clad in dark gray, slid across the leather stool. Akaashi kept his eyes on his drink—whiskey on the rocks, because he wasn’t trying to get sloppy drunk tonight—but he stole a glance (or three) at the man now sitting next to him, his breadth obscuring the stretch of the bar. Air whooshed out of Akaashi’s chest in relief.

Dressed in a tailored suit from the tops of his broad shoulders to the very jut of his ankles, this man _looked_ expensive. The pinstriped gray glowed under the poor lights of the bar, turning every man into a poor imitation of presentable in comparison. But there wasn’t air of pretense about him. He sat there, ordered himself a martini and slowly sipped it. The glass looked delicate in his strong hand, and Akaashi swallowed harshly when he caught the gleam of golden eyes blink in his direction.

“Say, what is a man as pretty as you doing all alone?” the man murmured, and Akaashi’s hand clenched around his glass.

He began, “I—” but his voice came out all wrong and breathless, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Just trying to relax.” The words felt all wrong, tension turning his tongue thick. He wished he could take them back, say something smarter like… _I’ve been waiting for a man interesting enough_. But that was the kind of thing heroines said in novels. Words like that didn’t come out of the mouths of men in boring brown suits and boring brown loafers.

Except, his words seemed to work their magic, turning the gentleman to him, knees knocking into Akaashi’s stool, shaking him a little. He held onto the bar’s edge, steadying himself, but nothing could have prepared him for the way this stranger leaned forward, an elbow resting atop one strong-looking thigh, and asked, “Can I help?”

Akaashi took a sip. “Depends.”

The man’s eyes twinkled like stars in the sky. “On?”

He cut his eyes to the man, looking at him coolly from behind his glasses. “Whether you have it in you.” Whatever had possessed him to be this collected better not leave him now.

“Say, what does _it_ happen to be?” The man leered now, eyes going dark, clearly enjoying this façade Akaashi had to keep going—keep pretending to be more interesting than he really was.

So, he did. He turned in his seat, let his knees brush against this man’s trousers, slowly, feeling every fold in the fabric of his pants. God, he wanted to tear them off him.

“Patience,” Akaashi replied. “I play a long game.”

The man’s eyebrows, thick and expressive, rose, touching his hairline, and the movement drew Akaashi’s attention to just how stunning his face was, hair pushed back, silver shining at the man’s temple. It made Akaashi wonder what this man might look like in a couple more years, once age had truly settled on him. Would he still be as perfectly cut as he appeared to be now?

“Then sign me up. I wanna play, too,” the man purred, and the sound made Akaashi smile. Oh, they had begun playing a long time ago.

“Follow me.”

* * *

Everything worked by a certain plan, and Akaashi considered himself a master at planning. This was everything to him.

He knew just the sheets across which he wanted to splay this man’s body, silk and cream, nothing less luxurious or lush. And as they walked into the room Akaashi had swiftly unlocked, anticipation rose in the air. _I play a long game_ . What a glorious way to shoot himself in the foot. Because all Akaashi wanted to do _now_ was get to the nitty-gritty of it all. Maybe drop to his knees and undo the fly of those pants with his teeth. Maybe push his companion to his knees to feed him his cock.

But just as Akaashi was reaching to curl a hand over one thick arm, he couldn’t help but hesitate. “I haven’t gotten your name yet,” he explained when the man frowned down at the hand Akaashi left hovering between them.

The furrow between his eyebrows disappeared immediately. “Call me Koutarou.” His mouth spread in a smile almost shy. Akaashi’s heart didn’t stand a chance.

Akaashi dipped his head, biting his lip from whispering the name like praise, letting it unfold from his tongue. “Keiji,” he replied, still keeping his hand from touching the arm he’d been wanting to grasp so badly as they’d ridden the elevator to the fifth floor.

The corners of Koutarou’s lips quirked, and he stepped closer to Akaashi, and although he was several inches taller, Koutarou gave off the impression that he was coming _under_ Akaashi’s wing.

Akaashi allowed himself to touch Koutarou just then, and it was nothing more than simply placing his hands on Koutarou’s shoulder, but there was nervous energy running through him, and soon enough, he was pulling Koutarou closer by his thick upper-arms and taking a long inhale of his cologne, clean and oud. He let his hands slide down, low, and slow, delighting in how he got to experience the glory that was the suit jacket, but there was that strength underneath, nestled like a beast ready to be unleashed. But Akaashi didn’t want to release it. Not yet.

“Sit down for me,” Akaashi murmured, and as if they were words falling from heaven, Koutarou obeyed. _Beautiful_.

The mattress dipped as he settled across the cream comforter, moonlight falling into the room through the open curtains, shedding light and shadows.

“Put your hands down, please,” Akaashi whispered, leaning down to brush his lips across Koutarou’s forehead, a brush more than a kiss, really, close enough to feel his breath hitch, then he was moving on. Likewise, his hands moved along Koutarou’s body. His fingers were following the dips and rises of his arms, then shoulders, then coming to his front to map out the flat edges of his crisp gray shirt underneath the opened jacket. It was in an almost silvery shade that glowed in the dim light of the room, accenting Koutarou’s hair and illuminating his eyes—eyes which were fixed on Akaashi, watching, assessing, adoring.

Akaashi let himself smile, felt it on his mouth, a promise for more.

“You’re quite handsome, Koutarou.”

There was a breathless “Thank you” in response, then the fluttering of his eyes shut truly sealed them into the scene. This was turning out a lot better than he’d expected.

 _When Bokuto had suggested they do something special for the 1st anniversary of their_ memorable _one-night stand, Akaashi had been skeptical._

_“Let’s role-play,” Bokuto had suggested, sitting pretty in nothing more than Akaashi’s snug briefs, nakedness on display like an art piece in a museum. But Akaashi was allowed to touch his beloved._

_He’d traced Bokuto’s lower lip with his thumb and asked, “What kind of role-play?”_

_“Anything you want, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto had replied, soft and velvety, eyes smiling along with his lips._

_“Then…would you like to wait? I have some calls to make.”_

_Bokuto had been too excited, crashing into Akaashi’s arms, throwing them back against their sturdy bed, into what rolled into a night of soft kisses and falling asleep watching TV. Just like any other work night where Bokuto returned home from practice to find Akaashi bent over a manuscript. At least he didn’t sleep in the office anymore, choosing instead to come home to their two-bedroom apartment where they’d made a home for themselves for the past ten months._

Now, Akaashi can hardly believe just how well the suit he’d gotten tailored for Bokuto looked.

No.

His boyfriend wasn’t _Bokuto_ tonight.

He was Koutarou; handsome and expensive, which wasn’t any different from the man whose snoring filled the silence of their nights together and ate every piece of mushrooms—which Akaashi refused to put in his mouth—off his plate.

There was excitement in playing at different introductions _._ It sat heavy and comfortably in Akaashi’s belly, and he had to keep reminding himself to take it slow, take his time to undo Koutarou’s buttons.

There was no rush.

But the way the shirt fit Koutarou’s chest, molded against him, the silvery sheen to the gray so gorgeous that Akaashi wanted to tip the tailor fifty percent the price he’d already paid made him more desperate to remove it.

Except, just as Akaashi released two of the top buttons, something was revealed to him.

Sitting bright against Koutarou’s sun-kissed chest was a red, lacy contraption commonly known as a brassiere. And it fit across his shapely tits almost lovingly. Entirely transparent except for the light crimson hue it gave off, the flimsy looking thing was alluring.

Akaashi paused, a little thrown back, but when he looked up, he saw Koutarou’s sheepish eyes—Bokuto’s eyes—look back at him, and his hunger grew a little sharper.

“Well, what do we have here?” Akaashi murmured, hand dipping, bringing a knuckle to brush across the thin strap at the very edge of one cup, and Koutarou shuddered in response, his eyes shutting tight, then opening, the black of his dilated pupils eating up all that gold.

“Just—a little hobby of mine,” Koutarou replied breathlessly, and Akaashi wanted to eat him—lace and all.

“And do you entertain this hobby often?”

“Only for frumpy bespectacled men in bars,” Koutarou replied, and there was definite playfulness in his tone, but Akaashi didn’t need to be reminded of the ocean of attractiveness lying between them. Somehow, his insecurity managed to translate onto his expression, which drew Koutarou to sit straight when he’d been sort of leaning back, proudly displaying himself.

“Shit—fuck I didn’t mean anything—you’re very handsome, Keiji.”

His name was spoken in that voice, thick with _something_ close to worship, but not quite.

“I’m—It’s—” Akaashi tried, but nothing comes out of his mouth, just a couple of silted sentences. So much for being a man who worked closely with words. He was clearly a fraud.

“Let me prove it, Keiji,” Koutarou said, voice rising a little higher, growing breathy yet piercing through the gray cloud forming around Akaashi. He blinked.

“It’s all right, I don’t need my ego stroked.”

Koutarou’s eyebrow rose. “How about I stroke something else of yours, then?”

This pulled a smile from the depths of Akaashi’s heart, a sincere one too, and so he forgave Koutarou’s slip of the tongue. Was it so bad that he wasn’t an arresting beauty? He never consciously took stock of his looks, never was one to be vain or even possess the smallest bit of hubris. But the look in Koutarou’s eyes challenged him, whispered something dangerous. Therefore, he nodded. “All right, Koutarou.”

And he enjoyed the way Koutarou’s mouth parted when he spoke his name, how his smile was all sunshine and daisies, then liked it even more when Koutarou pulled him to him, until Akaashi was sitting next to him on the bed. Looking satisfied, Koutarou sat up, and with smoothness revealing many hidden talents, he began to peel off Akaashi’s jacket.

“Just, relax, Keiji, and keep your eyes on me.” Relax and keep his eyes on Koutarou he did. He even rested his palms by his hips, spreading his thighs, every inch of his body loosening from its unconscious strain.

Koutarou bit one lower lip and stood in the space between his thighs, hands going to the buttons from which Akaashi had been so thoroughly distracted and began loosening them up.

It felt good to be the one-man-audience to Koutarou’s strip tease, even when Koutarou’s movements began to unveil more of that _hobby_ of his.

Apparently, he also enjoyed wearing a suspender belt.

In the same shade as the lacy bra, the belt’s lacy pattern crossed over his tight torso, forming an upside-down triangle attached to the hem of his panties, snuggled just at the base of his belly, where a happy trail used to lead to his cock. The top of his panties was teasing Akaashi’s fingers. He wanted so desperately to rip them apart. But he held himself back and he watched as Koutarou began to unbutton his trousers.

He looked so obscene, so glorious, so heart-stopping with the fabric of his lingerie lost in the dips and valleys of his muscular body.

Akaashi’s cock thickened in his pants, strained against his zipper, almost painfully, but he waited as Koutarou turned around, bent just low enough to accentuate his thick ass, and, looking back at Akaashi over one shoulder, began to take off his pants.

The slide of gray wool across Koutarou’s ass was a sight to behold. But the small red heart at the top center of those cheeks was even better. Connected to flimsy-looking red strings at each side of Koutarou’s hips, the thong looked delicate enough to melt on Akaashi’s tongue, and he so badly wanted to test out his theory. And use his teeth if it proved negative. What was a bunch of string in the way of his need anyway?

Then Koutarou rolled the pants even lower and heaven opened up as Akaashi found that the suspenders were connected to sheer red stockings, almost cherry-like in their shade, delightful in how they encased Koutarou’s long legs.

Koutarou looked back at Akaashi, his mouth open, panting, and said, “Enjoying the show?”

Akaashi let out of a muffled “Mmmverhmsh,” which was supposed to actually be something coherent, but he couldn’t force himself to form actual words. Instead, he pushed the heel of one hand against the base of his cock, trying to keep himself from creaming his pants. Drab as they were, these were his only sort-of dressy trousers.

Koutarou’s eyes glittered, and he turned around, stepping out of his pants, and came to Akaashi like an enchanter with a mission in mind.

Akaashi would let Koutarou eat his heart out if he wanted.

“Come here,” he said, then added, as if an afterthought as precious as a kiss on the back of someone’s hand, “please.”

In response, Koutarou’s eyes widened a little, and he inched closer, and without needing a word, receptive as always to Akaashi’s wants, Koutarou climbed his lap, settling that gorgeous, fat ass on his thighs.

Sitting like this, snug, threw Akaashi into déjà vu.

How many times had Akaashi sat _just_ like this, Koutarou astride him, facing him, face brilliant with a grin, eyes but two crescents of joy?

God, Akaashi loved him. He loved him so much he could barely keep it inside him anymore. But for the sake of their play, he kept up the allusion.

“Am I too heavy?” Koutarou asked, eyelashes fluttering coquettishly.

“You are the perfect weight,” he murmured, cupping Koutarou’s thighs in both hands. “How are you so good to me, Koutarou? I wonder if…” he trailed off.

Koutarou leaned close, his breath fluttering, mint-fresh, Akaashi’s own toothpaste breathed back into his parted lips, and whispered, “If?”

“If this ass might fit my cock just right.”

Koutarou’s breath whooshed out of him, his body arching into Akaashi, his ass grinding down on his hard cock. “Keiji,” Koutarou whimpered, the sweet, sweet nectar of his whining making every muscle in Akaashi’s body surrender and bend to his will.

“Yes, Koutarou?”

“Keiji, touch me,” he said, command and plea wrapped in once.

“Where?” he asked, falling for the way Koutarou’s eyes opened, sharp in response to Akaashi’s clear teasing. Call it payback of the stripping and the whole lace contraption of destruction Koutarou had been hiding under his tailored suit.

“Clearly I want you to touch me everywhere,” Koutarou replied, seduction thick in his voice.

Akaashi leaned his head back, trying to seem to be considering Koutarou’s proposal when in actuality he was reaching his limit. His desire to play with Koutarou’s emotions overruled every other emotion; lust included. “How do you want me to touch your everything? You have to be specific now or else…”

Koutarou bit his lip, then, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s neck, he whispered, “I want you to grip my thighs as you ride me. So fast and merciless that I wouldn’t be able to sit without squirming tomorrow.”

Akaashi blinked, the very last straw of his breaking under Koutarou’s honest gaze, and he groaned, turning them over, pushing Koutarou into the pristine sheets and rutting against his hard cock obscenely tenting the barely-there fabric of his thong.

“Fuck—fuck! Why! Do you! Have to be! So cute,” Akaashi grit out every word with a thrust of his cock against Koutarou’s scantily-dressed body.

Koutarou’s eyes glittered, and just as he was opening his mouth to reply, Akaashi ripped the thong right off him, making sure to be as brutal as necessary without actually hurting him.

A loud moan cut through the thick air between them, interrupting the somehow harmonious panting and sighing as Akaashi freed his cock with one hand and used another to open up Koutarou’s soft asshole with a spit-slick finger.

“You’re so ready for me, Koutarou. Almost too perfect to be real,” he spoke through the red haze of lust clouding every other thought to _go slow_ and _be gentle_. All he wanted was to go absolutely berserk. 

“Thank! You!” Koutarou gasped, gripping the sheets on both sides of his hips, biting his lower lip as Akaashi pushed a third finger into him. Hard, fast, and unrelenting. That’s how Akaashi wanted to take Koutarou’s body. And take it he did. 

“More—” Koutarou groaned, arms bunching up as shudders raked his body, a result of Akaashi’s fingers mercilessly stroking over his prostate. There. Sweet and snug. That was just the spot upon which Akaashi wanted to shower his devotion.

Once he had his pants and stained underwear pushed down around his thighs, Akaashi doubled his speed fingering Koutarou, squeezing the little packet of lube he had stashed in one pocket onto Koutarou’s softening hole, spreading it around, then paused with his raw dick resting centimeters away from plugging Koutarou’s hole.

“Condom or no, Koutarou?” he asked.

Koutarou’s eyes opened, and he gasped at what he saw in Akaashi’s expression. “No condom. Please. Off. I’m clean—”

“I don’t care about that—I just want to know if you want me to paint your insides with my come or not,” he hissed, pushing his dick into Koutarou in small increments that made Koutarou’s strong body shake like an earthquake destroying a small town.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck me up, Keiji—fuck me—” Koutarou sounded like a broken record, hips moving with Akaashi’s thrusts, head thrown back, the intricate lace not-covering-any-inch of his body twisted and making the sweetest of sounds across the expensive sheets. 

It was a cacophony of love and passion that Akaashi wanted to record on an ancient cassette and play it in the far future, just so he could remember the moments he chose this man, over and over again, without hesitation or a second thought.

“Bou—Fuck—Koutarou—I love you,” he gasped, falling low, his arms no longer capable of supporting him, face buried in Koutarou’s neck, hips going dreamy and slow, punctuated by soft sighs and peppered kisses across Akaashi’s cheeks. There was a prickle growing hotter and damningly good at the base of his spine, threatening to spill all over.

“I love you, Akaashi Keiji, my beloved, my darling—fuck—that feels so good, Akaashi.”

He came so hard, he saw supernovas explode behind his eyelids. Koutarou wasn’t a star; he was the entire solar system. The whole galaxy. 

Illusion and reality mixed together. They held one another in sweaty arms, kissing every inch on which they could put their mouths. Koutarou finished pulling off Akaashi’s clothes and tugged him close. Their positions switched, Akaashi was laid on his back, and with a smile, he began bending his knees, not to a normal degree, but an impossible one, until he knew he was red in the face and slightly gasping, bent like a soft pretzel. Koutarou’s eyes turned dangerously dark, hands like bands of heated steel around Akaashi’s ankles. 

“Can _you_ fuck me raw now?” Akaashi asked.

And Koutarou gave him as much as Akaashi demanded with his eyes bearing into his, his mouth asking for “More, Koutarou—harder, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” his hands and fingernails raking down Koutarou’s arms. He grunted with every thrust with which Koutarou’s thick dick fucked into him, the burn so familiar, so good, so lovely he was bearing down on it, clenching with all of his might, sending Koutarou into a shock of an orgasm.

Akaashi felt the hot come released in him, and he relaxed back, enjoying the heat between his ass cheeks, gooey and oozing out of him. Koutarou’s eyes went round, then he bent low to mouth at his still-hard dick.

“Look at you. Still so good for him,” Koutarou whispered, mouth full of Akaashi. He wanted to twist away, push Koutarou’s head off him, convinced he was too sensitive to withstand Koutarou’s teasing, but then that hot mouth was on him, swallowing him to the hilt, the back of his throat as snug and soft as his ass, and Akaashi was coming, coming, coming, so much that pearly spunk dribbled down Koutarou’s chin, staining his pretty, little outfit.

He watched Koutarou clean up with a wet towel. He was so relaxed he nearly melted down into the bed. He smiled as Koutarou wiped him down. Then he gathered his thighs in his arms and gave Koutarou a grateful look for the way Koutarou so candidly admired his flexibility with open-mouthed kisses along Akaashi’s inner thighs up to his knees and even sucking his toe into his mouth. He shuddered, shocked at his own body’s reaction. 

Koutarou looked similarly and pleasantly surprised. 

It amused Akaashi to no end how even a year later, he could still make Koutarou look this…besotted.

“Can’t say I’m sorry about that,” Akaashi admitted as Koutarou bundled the lace in one hand and placed it almost lovingly on the bedside table. 

“I wanted to take some pictures of the look but what the heck, this won’t be my last set,” Koutarou said, crawling on his knees to come and rest his head on Akaashi’s chest.

After a minute of quiet, he turned to Akaashi and asked, “Did you enjoy tonight, Akaashi?”

There was a brief bite in Akaashi’s chest. He threaded his fingers through Koutarou’s gelled hair, willing it to go soft like he liked, and said, “Call me Keiji.”

Koutarou’s eyes honest to God sparkled, and he kissed Akaashi sweetly on the lips, a whisper of, “I love you so much, Keiji,” floating between them.

He gathered Koutarou’s warm body in his arms and breathed in his shampoo—their shampoo—and smiled. 

Once upon a time, Akaashi had thanked God for Bokuto Koutarou, thinking the man was a blessing, fleeting and momentary, but he’d been wrong. 

Bokuto Koutarou was eternal. 

He was Akaashi’s forever star manifested through sinew and blood. And he’d love him for as long as they both shall live. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just me saying THANK YOU FOR MORE THAN 500 KUDOS. 
> 
> I'd never imagined a fic I wrote out of sheer indulgence and my friend's prodding would be so well received. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> Edit: I see y'all have exceeded my expectations. If you're coming back here wanting more: Please answer [this form](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeSH5hNNqeZlNv6fCmuLUu8t_TttZ2n8PsQpsgJTLy5PZSK4A/viewform?usp=sf_link). I want to know what _you_ want to see in this au!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dancing with a stranger.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517258) by [baby345](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baby345/pseuds/baby345)




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